The Alpha Mobile
by hbrackett
Summary: Stiles' Jeep is doing strange things lately. It's engine sounds like it's growling. The headlights have a tendency to flash red. And it is very...very protective of Stiles. When a clan of murderous, sadistic Hunters arrive in Beacon Hills, the Argents and the Hale Pack do their best to protect the quirky teen. Will it be enough, or will Stiles' beloved Jeep go on the Hunt?
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N - Just thought this would be an interesting story. I know it bears similarity to certain other works of fiction and I am not claiming originality points. If people like it, I'll continue it, if not it will be a two or three shot. Hope you enjoy!**_

"I don't suppose you know any magic to fix my Jeep's brakes?" Stiles asked Deaton as he left the vet's office.

Deaton gave him a serious look. "The last time anyone tried to mix magic and car repair, it backfired so horribly they made a _movie_ about it. Now please be careful with these herbs. They are all either powerful or poisonous or both, but my sister needs them if she's going to try and shut down the Nemeton's summoning power, or at least dampen it for a while by summoning a guardian spirit. If not, Beacon Hills will attract creatures far deadlier than werewolves."

Stiles took the 'spice rack' full of glass bottles and got into his beloved Jeep. He secured it in the back seat and took off for the creepy old tree stump in the woods.

He was singing along with the radio, be-bopping back and forth and drumming hyperactive fingers on the wheel, daydreaming about a monster-free (except for werewolves) Beacon Hills that might actually be safe for his Pack and his father to live their lives in.

A huge red-eyed monster seemed to drop from the sky and land in front of the Jeep. Stiles screamed and slammed on the brakes. There was a tortured grinding sound as the non-existent pads tried to stop the forward momentum of the car. Everything on the back seat tumbled to the floor of the Jeep, and Stiles heard the distinct sound of glass breaking. Seeing he wasn't going to be able to stop in time, Stiles whipped the wheel around and spun the Jeep through a massive spiral before finally coming to a halt. He sat there hyperventilating for a few moments before the red-eyed monster appeared at his window. Stiles irritably rolled down his window and screamed at it. The monster took a few startled steps back.

"Derek! What the hell?! Are you trying to kill me, my Jeep or commit suicide? All of the above? I have to get new brakes on her, and probably new rotors too!"

Derek shifted back to full human, his eyes losing their red tint. "There are Hunters in the area, not nearly nice as the Argents, and possibly another Alpha as well. What are you doing out here so late? I needed to warn you off before you got yourself attacked or kidnapped…_again._"

Although Stiles could see the concern in the Alpha's eyes (now that they weren't glowing), he was still annoyed that Derek had once again caused damage to his wonderful Jeep.

"Send a text next time! Not much point saving me from Hunters if you wind up killing me yourself! And you _will_ be contributing to her repair fund!"

Derek's eyes flashed. "I did text you. AND call. Your phone is dead, as usual."

Stiles sputtered. "My phone's been charging all day…" Stiles checked his phone, to find it was indeed out of power. He checked the car charger was plugged in at both ends (it was) and yanked the plug out of the car's outlet. The outlet and plug came out together. Stiles banged his head into the steering wheel.

"That's my job," Derek told him.

"Another thing to repair. I…I just can't afford my baby anymore…" Stiles moaned. "Derek, I have to get her home. Can you get these herbs to Deaton's sister at the Nemeton?" Stiles reached around in the back until he found the glass bottles and the rack. A few of the tops were missing, but nothing seemed to be broken beyond a chip in one of the bottles.

"Stiles, I don't want to leave you in the woods with a Jeep that's decidedly…"

Stiles' eyes smoldered for all that he wasn't even a werewolf. "One more word, and _I _ rip your throat out with _my teeth_!"

Derek snarled. "Forget it. The Hunters can have you. You'll probably annoy them to death." He took the herbs, turned and stalked off into the woods.

That's when the engine died.

"Shit!" Stiles whispered. He reached around in the back for a flashlight so he could check under the hood. He wrinkled his nose at the strange scent coming from behind his seat. Probably that stuff he dropped. Something seemed to bite into his hand.

Stiles screamed and yanked his hand back, inspecting it under the flickering dome light…great, now his battery was going out too. Next the Jeep would just explode.

A small piece of glass, undoubtedly from the broken bottle, had pierced his palm. There was already a fair quantity of blood flowing from the wound. Stiles pulled the fragment out and chucked it through the open window.

His earlier good humor was completely gone. A feeling of hopelessness descended upon him, and he actually felt tears in his eyes. Yet another thing he loved was in danger of being taken away from him forever. His father had been threatening to have the Jeep junked for a while now, maybe get him a Mustang, but Stiles could never betray his baby like that. He felt guilty asking his father for money for the mounting repair bills, knowing his father could probably save money just getting him the new car. He'd gotten the Jeep old and used already, and it was only with the utmost TLC that it had lasted this long.

He found the flashlight and pulled the hood release before getting out and shining the light over the engine. The battery contacts were corroded from acid leaks, so Stiles got a piece of Brillo from his glove compartment and carefully cleaned them. The corrosion sometimes interfered with the charge, making it seem like the battery was dead when it really wasn't. He got back in the car and tried again. No sound whatsoever, and now the dome light was very weak.

Stiles caught a glimpse of red eyes staring at him from the woods, breathing a sigh of relief. Derek must have moved fast to get back so quickly. The eyes were traveling rapidly towards him. A rage-filled roar echoed out of the forest, making Stiles want to void his bladder right then and there.

That was _not_ Derek.

"Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit…please baby, don't die on me now. Daddy needs you!"

Stiles turned the key, and the engine roared to life. Stiles threw it into first and floored the accelerator just as the killer Alpha reached the Jeep, getting its head in the window, snapping and snarling at a terrified Stiles. It's fangs ripped at the passenger seat upholstery…the thing was freaking rabid!

Then the Jeep was speeding away while the furious Alpha gave chase. Stiles raced through the woods, praying he could get somewhere, anywhere that was safe but not having any idea where that might be.

An enormous SUV exploded out of the woods to the left of the road, and began chasing them. Stiles had a desperate idea. Before the SUV could get up to full speed, Stiles slammed his brakes. The SUV rammed into him from behind, the seatbelt saving Stiles from a flight through his windshield, and the Alpha was crunched in between the two vehicles. The Alpha exploded like a bag of blood, and the SUV's hood crunched inward sickeningly. Stiles made to floor the gas pedal when a second SUV blocked off his escape. The next thing Stiles knew, he was being pulled from his Jeep while a number of men with lethal looking weaponry checked him over.

"No bites that I could see, but there's a lot of blood. Couldn't have turned that quickly. Still, he's seen too much. Should we finish him off?" The Hunter who was examining him was dead serious.

Other Hunters were pulling the driver of the wrecked SUV out from under the air bag that deployed when he hit the Alpha. He was barely conscious, but alive. An old grizzled Hunter who looked to be the leader approached Stiles and looked at him with piercing eyes that reminded Stiles uncomfortably of Gerard.

"What you doin' in these woods, boy?" his voice was like low and scratchy, and made Stiles fear him even more. It was a gargoyle's voice if he ever heard one.

"On a mission for Chris Argent. Thanks for saving me from the dog bite back there." Stiles lied, trying to play it cool. Hopefully throwing Argent's name out there would keep them from figuring out he was connected to the Hale Pack.

"Argent? You telling me you're a Hunter, boy?" The man smiled, displaying leaning tombstone teeth. Oh Holy Hell was Stiles scared.

"N-no, not a Hunter…I uh, don't have what it takes. I just help them out now and then."

"I see. And this 'mission'…care to tell me what it might be?" The smile grew wider.

Stiles thought furiously for a few seconds. If he gave an answer, any answer, his cover would be blown. Hunters, even the nice ones, were all kinds of tough and arrogant. Spilling his guts too quickly might lead to a more literal version of that experience. For this guy to believe the story, Stiles had to show some kind of backbone.

"You want to know that, you take it up with the boss himself. In fact, let's go there now!" Chris would be pissed at Stiles bringing rogue Hunters to his door, but would likely cover for him. After Gerard beating him to death, Chris owed him one.

The creepy Hunter laughed and clapped Stiles on the shoulder. "Maybe you _do_ have what it takes after all, boy. You helped to take out an Alpha…quick thinking by the way…and stand here alone in the woods, surrounded by killers…and you hold your tongue. Oh, I could have it out of you if I wanted…but Argent's affairs don't concern me and I have a wounded soldier to attend to. My name is Rourke. Tell Argent we're here to clean up his mess. If he likes, _he_ is welcome to come see _me_!"

Rourke and the other men laughed before climbing back into the working SUV and roaring off. Stiles got his breathing back to normal and got back in the Jeep. His phone beeped.

"Huh?" Stiles checked the outlet. It was back in place and solidly anchored. The phone was at 30% charge. Did he stick it back in and fix it without realizing it? He couldn't remember. Shrugging, he set off for home. He called Derek and Chris and warned him about the Hunters, and listened to both men scream at him and tell him to stay far away, they were too dangerous for him to be around. Stiles agreed on both counts and hung up, wanting only to get home to bed. Backing into his driveway, the brakes stopped the car with quiet ease, and Stiles remembered they hadn't been working…but now they were.

"Thanks baby, I never should have doubted you. You were there when I needed you…I am never giving you up and I will always take care of you. I promise."

Stiles got out and rubbed his hand lovingly along the side of his car. The Alpha's blood decorated the back, but there didn't seem to be too much damage. Stiles hosed off the blood before plugging his phone in the house charger and going to bed. Carelessly, he left the headlights on. The yellow-white beams chased the darkness from the front of the Stilinski home for an hour or so until the full moon rose high into the sky.

Suddenly the headlights flicked red, and the engine came to a low and grumbling life. It almost sounded like it was growling. Then both the engine and lights cut off, and the neighborhood was quiet once more.

{}{}{}{}

Stiles woke up early the next morning, after bizarre dreams of driving at breakneck speed through the forest. He went downstairs and found a note from his father.

'_Son, took your baby in to get those brakes looked at. You can pick it up around noon, it's all paid for. Love, Dad._

_P.S. I STILL think you should get a Mustang!_

Stiles grinned, thinking how much he loved his father. He called Derek again, who reported that Morell had gotten her herbs, but that the summoning spell was an inexplicable failure. Stiles sighed.

"Well, I'm glad the insane Alpha is gone, but I'm pretty worried about those new Hunters."

"Argent said he would take care of it…but all the wolves of Beacon Hills are going to be laying low until they leave. We've got another 4 weeks until the next full moon, so I don't have to worry about anyone getting into trouble that way. Look, sorry about last night. I'll see what I can do about helping you with your jalopy."

"Thanks, Sourwolf." Jalopy! Of all the nerve! It took Stiles a few seconds to realize that Derek was actually trying to be considerate. "I mean…thanks. My car charger works again though, so please really just send a text next time. Talk to you later."

Stiles made himself pancakes, eggs and bacon and amused himself by watching Power Puff Girls and Dexter's Laboratory until noon. Scott dropped by in his mother's car, and Stiles asked him to drive him to the mechanic to pick his baby up. Stiles picked up the keys and chatted with the owner of the shop, who happened to be great friends with his father before going out to the lot to find his Jeep.

He walked past it the first time, not realizing it was his…he only recognized it by license plate. The Jeep looked brand new, and had somehow been painted all black. The interior upholstery was red and new as well. Gleaming chrome fixtures winked at him, and the Jeep even had that 'new car' smell.

"Oh man…oh wow…" Stiles walked around the car, taking it all in. No dent or scratch could be seen anywhere. The tires were black and new-looking. Missing parts had all been replaced, despite Stiles being told constantly that most of them were discontinued.

Scott was impressed too. "Stiles, who did this?"

He shook his head. "Maybe my Dad…or Derek…or maybe the owner did us a favor…I'm not sure. But Scott, look at her! She is mint! She is completely cherry!" Stiles got in and turned on the ignition. The low thrumming power filled him with glee. Scott parked his mother's car on the street and hopped in beside Stiles. They cruised out of the lot, the engine making its low forceful hum. Stiles made for an abandoned stretch of road, and ramped it up to 4th. The Jeep ate the highway easily doing 120 miles per hour with the engine sounding like it was merely idling. Stiles and Scott whooped and cheered. They spent a good hour or two racing up and down the road before Stiles finally dropped Scott back off at his car, planning to meet for lunch at the Burger Barn.

"Okay, you have to race Derek's Camaro AND Jackson's Porsche…you could probably blow the doors off both of them!"

Stiles could only agree. Boy, were the gang going to regret making fun of his ride all this time. Jackson especially needed to be thoroughly trounced in a race. Then Derek…

Stiles frowned. He had no desire to beat Derek in a race, or make him think his Camaro was inferior to Stiles' Jeep. The idea of pissing Derek off even unintentionally was repulsive to him. Oh well…just Jackson then.

Stiles got to the Burger Barn first. The lot was full, so he parked the next block over on a shady looking street after locking the doors. By the time he got a table, Scott arrived and they spent a good hour consuming burgers, curly fries and two milkshakes each.

{}{}{}{}

Slick noticed the Jeep immediately, and waited until the dweeb left before going over to check out the mean machine. He whistled appreciatively…he had never seen anything like it; these models were usually pieces of shit. He'd heard the engine too…definitely souped up by a professional. This was a one-of-a-kind steal.

Slick walked up close and looked in the window. Nice! It was unlocked! He gently opened the door and leaned in. He wrinkled his nose. It smelled like dog or something. Why would anyone with a ride like this let their fucking dog ride in it?

The door slammed shut on his head, causing him to scream. "What the fuck?!" he shouted.

It closed itself properly this time, and the lock pushed itself down. The engine began making a low growling noise, and Slick began to back away as the Jeep slowly turned and nosed towards him…bright crimson headlights bathing him in a bloody glow.

"Holy freaking shit…" Slick whispered. He lurched to his feet, clutching his aching head and running as fast as he could go. The Jeep's engine roared as it chased after him, and Slick barely made it to the corner where he hopped over a stone barricade down to an embankment next to a dirty river. He listened to the engine rev, the growling turning into an infuriated roar. Then the noise slowly died off as the Jeep drove itself away.

That didn't stop Slick from hiding there for a good two hours…just in case the thing decided to be sneaky. Slick had a feeling the freako Jeep was good at hunting down prey.


	2. Chapter 2

Stiles still could not believe how badass his new Jeep looked. His father was stunned to see it when he pulled up in the driveway in his cruiser. He walked around it three times checking the plates and even the VIN# to see if it was the same vehicle. He called Stiles downstairs in a loud voice to interrogate him about its rejuvenation, but Stiles was even more mystified than he was.

"Dad, I thought YOU had them do it when I brought her in to get fixed."

"I doubt I could afford what they did, and there was nothing like that on the bill anyway. It looks…well, better than new! I'll call over there when Frank gets back from vacation; I wish I'd caught him this morning before he left. You have no idea who else could have paid for this?"

Stiles thought about it. "Well, maybe Derek. He's been rough on her a few times since I met him; he even called her a jalopy…but he said he would try to help me fix her up. I just can't believe he would go to all that expense to do it."

"I see," the Sheriff decided against sharing his own thoughts about Derek's frequent presence in Stiles' life. "You say she's got amazing horsepower now? That I'd like to see. Would you mind if I took her for a test run? We can grab some pizza for dinner while we're out."

Stiles jumped at the chance, and even offered to let his father drive. The elder Stilinski got in the driver's seat (marveling at how comfortable it was now) while Stiles buckled himself in on the passenger side. Stiles looked on excitedly as the Sheriff turned the key in the ignition and…

Nothing happened. Not even a click in the solenoid. Both Stilinskis looked puzzled. The Sheriff turned the key again.

Nada.

Stiles started to panic. His beautiful baby couldn't be broken already.

The Sheriff looked sympathetic. "Let's go in my cruiser, son. I told you, the car is getting up there in years.

The radio came on, blasting 'Forever Young' by Alphaville. Stiles turned it off, laughing. "Wow, thanks baby for the trip back to 1985."

The Sheriff got out of the car and fished for the keys to the cruiser while Stiles got in the Jeep's driver's seat to try and wake her up one last time.

"Come on baby, for me. We've got to impress Dad!" he whispered. He turned the key, and the engine roared to thrumming life. Sheriff Stilinski looked up, startled, then shrugged and got into the passenger seat. Stiles drove out onto the street and they drove the six blocks to the pizza parlor at an easy pace. The temptation was there to open it up to full throttle, but his dad would have to give him a ticket. They ordered two pizzas (Mess O' Meats for Stiles, gluten free wheat-crust veggie pizza for the Sheriff) and took them back home. When Stiles shut the car off and got out, the Sheriff hopped in again on a whim and tried the key.

Nothing.

"Well, looks like she'll only start for you, Stiles. Guess you never have to worry about anyone stealing her!"

Stiles beamed, fantasizing for a moment that his car was just as loyal to him as he was to her. It was a nice thought, but he should really get that finicky ignition checked out…it would be horrible if it happened during another inevitable werewolf/hunter attack. They ate their pizza and watched some old movies until it was time for bed. The Sheriff retired to his room, and Stiles did the same after cleaning up after their mess.

Of course, Derek Hale was sitting on his bed when he walked in. He wondered that it no longer surprised him.

"Hey, Derek. I see you're still making use of your Creeper's Permit. How many intrusions do you have to log before you can get your license?"

Derek ignored Stiles' prattle, as usual. "I had another chat with Argent. He told me Rourke complimented him on having an errand boy capable of killing an Alpha. He says if Chris doesn't want to train you, he'll be more than happy to take you off his hands."

Stiles gulped. Training to be a werewolf hunter with that loon and his loony crew was dead last on Stiles' wish list.

"But, Chris told him 'no way, Stiles is mine'…right?"

Derek smirked. "Apparently, it's a common practice among Hunter clans to trade members, this way they can come back with new skills to teach. Chris made it abundantly clear that you lack the skills to be anything but wolfbait. You're a colossal screw-up and give new meaning to the word 'hopeless'."

Stiles felt the blood rush to his face. "What? Is he kidding me? Does he have any idea how many times I've saved everyone's asses, and he has the balls to say that about me?"

Derek was up and backed Stiles into the nearest wall, his large hand covering Stile's mouth. Whoops, not a good idea to shout with his dad just down the hall.

Derek released Stiles and stepped back. "He said that so Rourke would lose interest in you. Or do you _want_ to go train with him? Was killing a werewolf so much fun you want to keep doing it?"

Stiles opened and closed his mouth several times. "No, of course not. Ok, I see why he said that…I just wish Chris didn't think calling me stupid was the most convincing lie Rourke would believe."

Derek rolled his eyes. "You aren't stupid, and no one thinks that…well, not seriously anyway." Derek looked like he regretted telling Stiles about the whole conversation.

Stiles didn't smile at Derek's sarcastic remark. "I've had enough of you guys call me that over the years to know you've all thought it. Look me in the face, and tell me you've never once thought I was defenseless, weak and brain-dead…a total liability."

Derek didn't answer immediately, and Stiles decided he was done with this conversation. He pointed to the window. "Show yourself out, Derek. And close the window after, I'm not smart enough to do it." He turned away, unable to look at him a second longer and so missing the devastated expression on Derek's usually impassive face. The thing was, Derek _had_ thought that at the beginning, had written off _every_ teenager he met as being dumber than a crate full of anvils…and he saw himself in the face of every one of them…a young stupid teenage werewolf that had gotten most of his family killed over a schoolboy crush. It had taken him a while to see that many of them, especially Stiles, were stronger and smarter than Derek could possibly imagine. He wanted to tell Stiles this, but his words (as usual) failed him.

"Stiles-"

"_Just go!"_

When Stiles turned around about five seconds later, Derek was gone.

{}{}{}{}

At school on Monday, Scott sat next to a grumpy looking Stiles in last-period English class. It was the only class they had together on Mondays. That was okay, Stiles hadn't felt much like talking with anyone all morning, still remembering Derek's visit the night before.

"What's wrong?" he asked his lifelong friend.

"Scott…am I a total screw-up? I mean, do I have anything going for me at all?"

Scott laughed, then spotted Allison a few seats over and became absorbed in studying her face and inhaling her unique scent.

"You have lots going for you, look at all the ideas you get about things, no one has a brain like you!"

Stiles perked up. "Yeah? Thanks man."

Scott went on, still staring at Allison. "I remember a few years ago, you had this great idea to go to the Preserve in the middle of the night and look for a dead body…"

Stiles dropped the pen he was holding. He watched it roll away across the floor. Greenberg (who had forgotten his own pen) happily snatched it up and began copying the board. The guilt over the night Scott became a werewolf still ate away at Stiles…but for that night, they would still have ordinary lives instead of always being in constant danger.

"God, you must hate me…" Stiles muttered to himself.

"What? Hey man, I was just kidding. You know I don't mean that."

"Yeah…listen, I have to go. I'm feeling sick."

Stiles got up and left the classroom. Lydia and Aiden were just emerging from an empty faculty office, the two of them giggling. Lydia spotted Stiles and waved while Aiden gave him a cool stare. Lydia, who had shown in her consistent rejection of Stiles over the years that he was simply not good enough for her. Aiden was handsome, and a powerful werewolf. So was Jackson after all the kanima business. No wonder she never gave Stiles the time of day. Stiles was just a stupid human, and ugly to boot.

Deep down, Stiles realized he was overreacting. He knew that he had proven his worth to his friends over and over again…but the self-loathing had him firmly in its grip and he couldn't be around them today. He staggered to the parking lot and got into his Jeep, sighing as he sank into the driver's seat and pulled the door shut.

"_You_ believe in me, don't you baby?" He turned the key. 'Leader of the Pack' by the Shangri-Las came through the radio speakers, making him smile.

He leaned back and closed his eyes, imagining his Jeep driving him to some far off place where no one tried to kill him and people treated him with respect.

He didn't see the SUV pull up next to him, or the hunter looking at him intensely from behind the wheel.

{}{}{}{}

Stiles did eventually notice the SUV. He got out and looked around, spotting the young man sitting on one of the picnic tables on the quad eating a sandwich.

"You must be Stiles," the guy said by way of greeting. He was about Stiles' age, but it was hard to tell. He seemed hardened like most hunters, but didn't seem to wear it well…like a too-young soldier about to go off to war. Body-wise, he was on a par with Jackson with ridiculous muscle tone.

"Yeah, and you are…"

"Rick. Rick Rourke…don't make fun, I get that enough from the other guys."

"Well Rick Rourke, I'm Stiles Stilinski…and no one has _ever_ made fun of that name. Old man Rourke is your dad?"

Rick made a sour face. "Yeah, lucky me. I guess you can imagine why I'm here."

"Of course I do…but why don't you tell me anyway." Stiles bluffed.

Rick smiled. He had dark hair like Stiles, kept in a buzzcut, but eyes that were a deep clear blue. If Stiles hadn't let his hair grow out, they might have passed for brothers.

"Well, Argent told my father you were too hopeless for a Hunter, but dad thinks Argent is either blind or full of shit. He thinks Chris is covering up that you might be one of his best and sent me to find out. From the looks of things, I think my dad's right for once in his life."

Stiles didn't know if it was the compliment or the blinding smile that went along with it that made him blush to the roots of his hair.

"Well, one doesn't like to brag…"

"Listen, we're staying at a safe house in town. Why don't you come by and…" Rick winked at him. "…show me what you've got?"

Stiles swallowed thickly as he caught the _double entendre_. Rick was interested in him!

"Um…yeah, maybe." Stiles had sudden visions of a kidnapping attempt and forced training in some Hunter prison camp.

Rick made no sudden moves, however. He deflated a bit at Stiles' reluctance. "It's up to you. I get it if you don't want to. None of the other Hunters like me much. I _really_ suck at everything, a huge disappointment to my dad, and everyone treats me like their whipping boy. I guess I was hoping that if you did have some skills, that maybe…you could teach me some stuff." He gave a self-deprecating laugh. "Oh my god, my mouth never stops running. I can't believe I told you any of that stuff. Well, I guess I better go. Dad and the others will be back tomorrow, and I have until then to practice my shooting. He's gonna test me when he gets back."

Rick dumped his lunch trash in a can just as a member of the custodial staff came along to empty it. After, he walked over to the SUV, and started fumbling in his pockets for keys.

Stiles' phone beeped. It was a text from Scott.

_'Pack Meeting tonight. Derek wanted to know if you'd be there.'_

Stiles texted back, feeling a sudden surge of resentment.

_'Nah. You guys have fun. I'm gonna be busy sticking my tongue in electric sockets and moving piles of rocks from location to location.'_

"Hey! If you want, we can go to the arcade. I think they have 'House of a Billion Ravenous Corpses' there. I can give you some sharpshooting tips." He shouted over at Rick.

Rick looked up and flashed that smile again. "Great! Um…turns out I've lost my keys."

"Oh, I'll help you look." They searched the grass of the quad until the rest of the school let out.

"Uhhh, I think I may have dumped them in the trash," Rick looked completely embarrassed. "My dad is going to _kill_ me!"

"Is he that bad?" Stiles couldn't help feeling bad for him.

"Oh, he's not gonna hit me or anything. He just gets this look of disappointment on his face. It's there _all the time_, and always because of me!" Rick said miserably.

"Yeah, I get that look from my dad a lot. Usually when I'm…" he stopped. He had been about to say _'Usually when I'm covering up for the werewolves.'_ "…slacking off."

Rick didn't appear to notice the pause. "Well, if you don't mind driving…"

They got in the Jeep, Rick seeming to notice it for the first time. "Hey, this is amazing! Is this the one that you…uh…squished that Alpha with?" He wrinkled his nose.

"Yeah, but I got her fixed up since then."

"_Her?_ Your car's a girl?" Rick's eyes were opened in wide unaffected surprise. No disbelief, just surprise.

"Yeah, but don't ask her name. It's a secret."

Rick ran his hand along the red upholstery as Stiles started the car, smiling at the sound of the powerful engine.

Rick reached for the radio. "Well, I hope she likes me!"

As soon as he clicked it on, the radio began playing Cole Porter's 1939 classic song 'I've Got My Eyes On You'. Stiles burst out laughing.

"I don't know what's got into my Jeep, but lately the song choices have been eerily fitting."

They drove over to the arcade, and Rick was suitably impressed by Stiles ability to score dozens of consecutive headshots on the zombie hordes. Rick was as hopeless as he'd feared; finally, Stiles had to stand behind him and school him on how to aim properly, the way his dad had taught him.

"But with a real gun, you squeeze the trigger…you don't pull it. You'll learn how to adjust for the kick with practice. After that you should try leading shots on moving targets, like with skeet shooting."

Rick made his first dead-on headshot, and laughed, turning his head slightly so that their cheeks were almost touching.

Rick pushed back against him, almost grinding into Stiles, which left the spastic teen in that cloud of euphoria that comes from sudden sharp sexual arousal.

"_Now_, you want to come home with me?" Rick asked in a husky voice.

Stiles was breathing heavily, hoping desperately that Rick wouldn't move. Stiles was kind of…obvious…at the moment.

"Um…I don't know…" he stammered. This was all happening way too fast.

"I have my own bathroom…with one of those Jacuzzi bathtubs. No reason for me saying that, just an observation," Rick put the plastic gun back in the holster on the game machine, bending over to do it.

"Yeah, that's cool…I'd like to see it!" Stiles said breathlessly, as if it had been his lifelong dream to see a bath tub.

They hopped in the Jeep and drove off to the Hunter safe house. Rick turned off the radio before Elvis Presley could get through one bar of 'Heartbreak Hotel'.

{}{}{}{}

They were on Rick's bed, making out like there was no tomorrow. Shirts were discarded and thrown to the floor. Stiles was down to boxers while Rick wore jeans (_and nothing else)_ he confided to Stiles with a grin. Stiles pulled back only when Rick tugged gently at the waistband of the boxers, after palming him good and hard through the thin cloth for the last half hour.

"What's wrong?" Rick sat up, looking worried.

Stiles struggled to pull himself back to Planet Earth. "Nothing…it's just…well, this is a bit fast for me."

Rick turned red and looked really uncomfortable.

"Oh, god…I'm sorry…guess I just got carried away." Rick began dressing rapidly, refusing to look at Stiles.

Stiles was consumed by guilt.

"Rick, it's not you…I just…"

"Look, I don't know what you must think of me, but I'm no slut, alright? I'm a freaking virgin in fact. I just never met a guy like you. You are so goddamned hot, you're great with a gun, you killed a rabid Alpha werewolf with that amazing car…you just hit all those 'sexy badass' buttons I didn't even know I had."

"Rick…I'm a virgin too. You're the first guy I ever kissed. I've never been with anyone."

Rick looked at him then. "So why don't you want to do it? It would be so perfect! We're both guys, we both want it and know we want it, why not just cut through the bullshit?"

Stiles let out a deep breath and started to get dressed. "Rick, you're hot as hell and I have had more than a few fantasies about what we were just doing…but I want my first time to be with someone I love, not just someone I'm attracted to. I like you a lot…but can we get to know each other better before we go further?"

Rick seemed to be a little ticked off…then looked thoughtful for a few minutes.

"You're right. I got carried away…I don't want to waste you on a fling if there's a chance I could have the real thing down the road. You're worth waiting for."

Stiles got choked up. No one had ever said anything like that to him with such total seriousness. Rick sidled up to him and wrapped his arms around Stiles.

"Just try to put a damper on the goddamned animal magnetism…I'm only human, after all."

Stiles kissed him for a full minute, enjoying the electrical shocks that were bursting through his brain. "No magnetism here, animal or otherwise…"

Rick laughed. "You're fucking sex in blue jeans, Stiles. Don't let anyone tell you different."

{}{}{}{}

Stiles drove home, out of his mind on hormones and lust-induced imaginings. When he got home, he had a text-war with Rick while lying on his own bed until Rick sent him a picture of exactly what Stiles had passed up tonight.

"Oh my god will you look at that?" Stiles exclaimed aloud.

"Look at what?" asked Derek, climbing in the window.

Stiles shut the phone and hurled it from him, then tried to look nonchalant. He failed.

Derek wrinkled his nose. "What the hell, Stiles? You smell like you're in heat!"

Stiles panicked. "I was looking at naughty pictures on my phone. I'm a teenager, you know!"

Derek rolled his eyes. "Believe me, I know. Why didn't you come to the meeting tonight? Was it because you were pissed at me?"

' "God, no. I have a life outside of the Pack, you know."

"I see. Apparently this includes looking at porn on your phone while the rest of us try to figure out how to keep from being killed by even crazier Hunters than the Argents."

"Is this a freaking guilt trip, Derek? That's why you came here? You're really gonna guilt me about missing one damned meeting after I held you up for hours in a pool so you wouldn't drown and a snake monster was trying to eat us? A snake monster that I almost destroyed my Jeep to put out of commission long enough so Lydia could work her love mojo on him? Lydia, who was my lifelong crush? I've sacrificed a _hell_ of lot more for this Pack than anyone else in it, and not one of you has ever bothered to say thank you! So yeah, if I want a night off to look at porn, then you just cut me some slack and let me do it! In fact, I'd like to look at some _more_ porn if you don't mind!" Stiles pointed to the window.

"Stiles! I didn't come here to guilt you!" Derek took a deep breath and looked like he was fighting his every instinct to say his next words.

"I came to say I was sorry, and that…" Derek closed his mouth and gave a quick pleading glance to the ceiling. "…that as far as I'm concerned, you're the most valuable member of this Pack. We'd…we'd be done for if it weren't for you. I came…to say thank you. Guess I should have said it sooner. Another thing I'll regret for the rest of my life."

Derek went out the window and was gone. Damnit, why was everything so complicated with Derek? Stiles threw himself back on his bed. The euphoric sex-high was gone and not likely to come back. Stiles texted a goodnight to Rick and shut off his phone.

That night he dreamed that he was racing through the forest in his wonderful Jeep, it just ate up the forest road like it was a NASCAR track and animals leapt out of the way. Its headlights blazed with crimson fire, and they picked out Stiles' enemies who were trying to hide though it was far far too late. Peter Hale was first, knocked through the air as the Jeep plowed into him. Gerard Argent was next, exploding into a bag of black blood for daring to hurt Stiles. Jennifer Blake and the Alpha Pack were destroyed one by one, all of them snarling with twisted evil faces as they met their end.

Then the lights picked out one more figure, and Stiles screamed as Rick Rourke was crushed beneath the monster his Jeep had become.

"Stiles! Get up and get ready for school!" called his father from down the hall. The dream dissolved into vapor, and Stiles blinked trying to recover it…to no avail. He showered, dressed and ate before going outside to stare in shock at his Jeep. It was still perfect, not a mark or scratch to be seen anywhere…but there were leaves and branches all over it, as if it had driven through the forest at top speed.


	3. Chapter 3

Stiles ducked the Pack again after school on Tuesday to hang out with Rick, who claimed to desperately need help with yet another Hunter skill. Stiles enjoyed being something of an authority figure and role model to someone for once in his life, especially to a guy like him. He hoped Rick wanted to learn archery, since Allison had been giving lessons to him for months and he was pretty good at it. Arriving at the address in Red Falls Rick had given him, he got out of the Jeep and looked around. The next thing he knew, Rick grabbed him from behind and dragged him screaming into a place of nightmare, a den of torture and despair that would strip him of his will to live in a way Gerard could only dream of:

A karaoke bar.

"I don't sing!" he wailed.

"Everyone sings, Stiles." Rick said reasonably.

"I don't sing well!" Stiles amended.

"Neither does anyone else here! That's the whole point!"

"My singing destroys people!"

"Then the people inside that building are doomed!"

"Since when is singing a Hunter skill?" shrieked Stiles.

"If you ever have to fight Sirens, you'll find out!" Rick yanked him into the club.

The place was crowded for a karaoke bar, eight people. Seven of them were girls, with one guy who looked homicidal and bored at the same time. A frizzy redhead on stage was busy belting out 'Mandy' badly enough to be declared a biohazard.

When it was over, Rick hopped up on stage and began to sing 'Centerfold' by the J. Geils Band. He had a great voice, and the audience interest perked up immediately. He seemed to sing it better than Manilow did. When he got to the chorus, all the girls were singing with him. Rick sang it staring right into Stiles' eyes.

Rick raised his left hand and began waving it back and forth, and the girls all did the same while screaming along with him through the 'Na na na na na' chant. He was asked to do an encore, and then some other Manilow songs all of which were pitch perfect. Rick was sweating a fair amount under the spotlights and pulled off his shirt, tossing it to some screaming girls. The whole place went crazy. Stiles watched him open-mouthed. Rick's charisma was never stronger than at that second, he was a freaking rock-star who could have any of these girls. In fact, the crowd seemed to have swelled to almost thirty, and there were even a few appreciative-looking guys cheering him on.

"And now, I'd like the new man in my life to come up and sing a song with me, audience pick! Get up here, Stiles! Show this crowd what you can do!"

Stiles was beet red as he was practically body-surfed onto the stage. A DJ came over and handed him a microphone. Stiles looked at it as if it were a cobra.

A girl in the audience spoke to the DJ, and the opening strains of Gotye's 'Somebody That I Used To Know' started plinking over the speakers. Stiles face-palmed himself.

Rick began the first part, singing directly to Stiles. It was deep, low-key and incredibly soulful. Stiles' anxiety began to melt away. When the second part came on, he was only pitchy for a few seconds before he found his voice. The audience screamed again as he began to hit every note perfectly, as if Rick's charisma bubble had suddenly expanded to include him.

They sang back and forth to each other, and then through the encore performance, this time switching parts. While Stiles was singing, Rick came over and tore his button-down shirt open, exposing his pale but well-muscled chest to the crowd. Stiles didn't miss a beat though his face went from shocked to embarrassed to a plain old lopsided grin at the audience. When Rick took over, Stiles shed the ripped shirt and tossed it to the crowd. They finished, and Rick came over, took Stiles' face in his hands and kissed him in front of everybody.

The cheering was deafening. Rick took him by the hand and led him down from the stage and over to the bar where the bartender eyed them obviously and handed over two free bottled waters

"Having a good time?" Rick asked, winking.

"The best. Still going to kill you later, but this was fun."

"Oooh, make it hurt baby," Rick whispered in his ear.

"Why all this?" Stiles gestured all around them.

"I…just wanted them to see you the way I do…as the most amazing guy on the face of the earth."

"Well…at least none of my friends saw this," Stiles said thankfully.

They finished their beers and made out for a while in Rick's SUV (still shirtless) before calling it a night.

Wednesday morning saw many of the kids at school staring at him, some of them even laughing and turning away. A few seemed to be studying him intensely as if they'd never seen him before. Yet others made comments that were almost flirty.

What the hell was going on?

Lydia provided him with the answer to that question when she dropped her iPad on his lap in homeroom with Safari opened up to YouTube. Stiles looked at it for two seconds and groaned, covering his eyes.

"What is the meaning of this? Since when do you have a boyfriend? Since when do you like boys? Since when did you become hot? And most importantly…_since when can you sing?"_

Lydia looked personally offended that Stiles' secrets had been kept from her.

"Tell me that everyone in the whole school, plus the Pack and my father, haven't seen this." Stiles pleaded.

"That would be called 'lying'." Lydia snapped.

Allison materialized out of nowhere. "Um, you sing really well, Stiles!" she blushed.

Lydia rolled her eyes. "You should know, you watched the video ten times!"

Stiles snapped upright at that. "You did?"

"Um, my dad's about to call, have to go!" Allison vanished as quickly as she came.

Danny clapped him on the back and told Stiles to bring him and Ethan next time and make it a foursome. Stiles hoped Danny was only talking about the singing.

"Aiden's never been jealous of you before today, but he now considers you to be a threat, so this will be the last time I'm ever alone with you. Later!" Lydia flounced away.

Scott sat next to him at lunchtime and just openly stared at Stiles the entire hour.

The Sheriff sent him a text as school let out.

_'Is this really how I have to find out, Stiles?'_

Derek didn't appear to put his two cents in until later that night when he stumbled gracelessly through Stiles' window. He looked…strangely disheveled, and appeared to be more than a little drunk. Stiles couldn't imagine how much alcohol Derek needed to consume to get there. His eyes were flashing between Alpha-red and bloodshot human-red.

"Wash thish crap? Now yoursingin wizzome Hunter kid wish no shirt?"

"Oh my god, Derek! You're completely wasted! What brought this on?" This was surely some Twilight Zone episode Stiles had wandered into by accident.

"YOU!" Derek pointed a shaking finger at a spot two feet to the left of Stiles. "You did it! I thought I wuz over thish crap! Whyiz evrywun wanna break me? I gotta sign that sez 'Pleeze break me' or sometin? I'm a person too, yannow!"

Stiles couldn't understand a word Derek was saying. When he approached Derek, the drunken Alpha snarled and dove out the window, landing heavily on the lawn below and groaning loudly. He stood up and unzipped, beginning to take a leak against the side of Stiles' house. "I'm gonna mark my damn terratotalitarian…mark my damn talullahtyranodon…mark my damn torrential taboulatory! There, I said it right!" Then he flipped Stiles off and launched into an unsteady all-fours wolf run only to crash headlong into a telephone pole across the street. After some more groaning, he stood up and staggered off towards the forest.

Stiles sat on his bed and stared at the wall. "I guess my singing really _can_ destroy people!"

{}{}{}{}

Stiles was hesitant to introduce Rick to the Pack until he got to know the junior Hunter a little bit more, and decided he needed to do a bit more digging. He asked Rick if the Rourkes followed the Code, and Rick said that while many did there were always a few who 'took things to the next level'. Stiles asked more questions, trying to figure out where he and his family stood on the whole subject

They were sprawled together on Stiles' couch playing Left for Dead, neither of them paying much attention to the game. Rick was out of sorts since they started talking about werewolves, as if he were upset or mad about something.

"What's wrong? I'm not trying to weasel any secrets out of you, I just want to find out if you're one of those who think werewolves should be exterminated." Stiles wheedled in what he hoped was a nonchalant tone.

"You tell me first. Where do you and the Argents stand?"

Stiles bit his lip. He had to be very careful how he answered this question.

"Chris and Allison follow the Code, and I agree with that. Wolves don't have to be put down unless they're bad. We wiped out the Alpha Pack not too long ago."

"We heard about that. Impressive…Deucalion is nowhere to be found, lucky for him. We heard he's reformed, but I'll tell you right now that if any Rourke Hunters find him, he's toast. He's gone too far to be forgiven."

Stiles had no love for Deucalion after what his Pack did to Boyd and Erica, and could only agree.

"The twins are still in town, too." It wasn't a question, so Stiles didn't answer. "Their only recorded kills are other werewolves, so no one's gunning for them," Rick went on.

That was a relief…if Rick was indeed telling the truth. For the millionth time, he wished he had the wolves ability to detect lies.

"You know, my Dad and some of the other Hunters don't really have any respect for the Argents. The Hale fire was fucking cowardly."

Rick said this with such force that Stiles could not help but believe him. "That was all Gerard and Kate. Chris never knew until the end when Peter Hale had to be put down. Derek did that himself, to his own uncle. I can't imagine what that took, not that he stayed dead. He chose not to take revenge for Kate's death once he lost his wife and Gerard was out of the picture."

"Yeah, well every family has some bad apples. My dad says that all the time." Rick got up and yawned. "I should get going. Big meeting tonight."

"Hey…does your dad know…about us?" Stiles didn't know if he wanted to hear the answer.

"Yeah, he doesn't care. One of the few good things about him. He's pissed at Chris for lying about _you_, though."

"You told him I was good at stuff?" Stiles was alarmed.

"Just what I saw so far…look he asked, and I'm not going to tell him my boyfriend's a shitty hunter when he isn't!"

Stiles was flattered and annoyed at the same time.

"Is he gonna want to…you know…pull me into your hunter clan? I'm asking because I kind of need to stay here in Beacon Hills…and I'm not sure about being a hunter anyway. There are good wolves in Beacon Hills. We all keep the peace around here."

"Really? The Argents have an alliance with the werewolves? Chris totally lied about that to my dad! That's amazing!" Rick got really excited. Stiles felt the bottom drop out of his stomach, feeling that once again his mouth got the better of him.

The front door slammed open and Derek Hale walked into the room. He was impeccable…every hair in place in sharp contrast to the other night, and more menacing than Stiles had ever seen him since the old days.

"Stiles, are you really going to betray all of us like this?" Derek demanded.

Stiles was mortified…a thousand times moreso than from any fallout over the YouTube video.

"Derek, I didn't, I never…" Stiles flailed, trying to find words that would erase the disgusted look on Derek's face.

Rick looked back and forth between the two. "Whoa, Stiles didn't betray anybody. If you want to be mad at somebody, be mad at me!"

"Oh, I'll get to you, don't worry!" Derek snarled at him. "Stiles, you are officially barred from any and all future meetings involving any wolves in Beacon Hills."

Stiles sputtered. "You can't do that! Derek…" Stiles wanted to scream that Scott was an Alpha too, and not all the wolves were in Derek's Pack, but all of this would be more information passed along to Rick.

"I can, and I am. Enjoy your time with the Argents…or the Rourkes when you decide to join them! Do yourself a favor keep out of my territory in the future! I can't be responsible for what might happen!"

"Your territory?" Stiles fumed, royally pissed now. "Do you mean Beacon Hills, or my house with the pee-stained wall under my window?"

Derek's cold composure slipped a bit, while Rick's eyebrows climbed into his hair.

"Dude, you peed on his house?" Rick asked wonderingly.

Derek whirled on him. "And you! What are you, a spy? A plant? A mole? Are you seriously going to try to make anyone believe that you're interested in _Stiles_ because you find him attractive and think he's a great hunter?"

Stiles felt anger exploding throughout his body. He wanted to shout, wanted to rip Derek to shreds…but words failed him. He was too enraged to say a single word.

Rick looked Derek right in the eye. "I have no plan to hurt any werewolf in Beacon Hills, Derek Hale. I would never let my family harm anyone in your Pack. As for Stiles? All of you underestimate him, in my opinion. Did my heart skip?"

Derek frowned.

"No, but that doesn't-"

Stiles walked over to a jar on the fireplace mantle and picked up the jar of Mountain Ash he kept for emergencies. Derek backed up a step, looking nervous.

"Stiles, what are you doing?"

Stiles reached for the spark inside him, the spark Deaton had told him he could nurture into a flame. Right now, that flame had become an inferno. Stiles opened the jar, and the Ash poured out of it to float in the air like a cloud.

Stiles began to speak in a voice no one in Beacon Hills had ever heard before. It throbbed with power, and the words cut through Derek like a knife.

"Derek Hale, you are barred from this dwelling. You are not welcome here. Your invitation is revoked. Return here…and be destroyed."

The bits of Ash hovering in the air began to swarm and buzz like a mass of killer bees. The cloud moved towards Derek who backed right out the front door. The cloud followed him, growing larger as it reached the outdoors. It took on the shape of a hollow sphere that completely enclosed the Stilinski home before collapsing inward and forcing its essence into every fiber before vanishing altogether. Derek looked in at them with a hurt in his eyes that was terrible to see. Then he looked down and walked away.

Stiles snapped out of his trance.

Rick was staring at him. "Holy shit," was all he said.

Stiles' eyes rolled up and he collapsed bonelessly to the floor.

{}{}{}{}

Stiles woke up a short while later in his bed. Rick spooned him from behind, fast asleep with one arm wrapped around Stiles' middle. The day's events ran through Stiles' mind, and he cried silently into his pillow. He couldn't believe what he had done…couldn't believe he even had the power to do it or that he did it to Derek…and every werewolf. He had no idea if it could even be undone. That look on Derek's face…it broke his heart. It only occurred to him now that he cared deeply about Derek Hale, and had for a while. The shared pain of their lost families…their dedication to the people that were important to them…those feelings had bonded them together and grown into a love that was fast moving away from the brotherly kind he had with Scott to something more…like what he'd felt for Lydia. But Derek as much admitted he couldn't believe Rick or anyone else would find him worthy of love. That alone was like a knife in his chest…and now Derek could only assume that Stiles hated him because of that Mountain Ash trick. But after a careful examination of his feelings, Stiles knew it wasn't true. Stiles was angry with him…_furious_ even…but he could never in a million years truthfully claim to hate him.

But there was no fixing this. The die was cast.

Rick snorted and came awake, leaving Stiles alone for a moment to use the bathroom before returning.

"You okay?" he muttered sleepily when he saw Stiles was awake.

"No. Can I ask you a favor?"

"Anything," Rick said flatly.

Stiles sat up and pulled his shirt off. "Make me forget today ever happened," Stiles' dark eyes focused on him.

Rick gazed at him for a few seconds, then pulled off his own t-shirt. "I can do that,"

They took their time and Stiles did forget all of his pain, both the old and the new, at least for a while.

Neither boy heard the Jeep leave the driveway.

{}{}{}{}

Derek arrived at his loft and proceeded to get drunk, even more blackly drunk than the first time. The 'moon-shine' that was the only drink on earth that could knock a werewolf flat on his ass was an invention of Peter Hale in happier times. Peter always knew more shit than was good for him.

He left the loft and got in his Camaro, contrary to all conventional wisdom regarding alcohol and driving. He made it to the Preserve and staggered into the dilapidated Hale mansion, sitting amongst the ruins of his greatest failure and betrayal and ponder how he had ever managed to ruin his life twice over.

Derek had gone over to try and apologize for the 'marking' incident, taking great pains to look presentable…Stiles could never resist him when he looked that good. He also wanted to find out more about this Hunter's kid that had magically wormed his way into Stiles' affections. Derek had been trying to send signals to Stiles for years, but the boy was oblivious. Derek couldn't bring himself to be more direct…deep down he was afraid Stiles might reject him. Derek was quite sure Stiles was attracted to him…there was no missing the spike in his hormones whenever the Alpha walked into the room…but he thought Stiles might refuse because of his youth, or maybe his confusion about what he wanted…he wasn't completely over Lydia yet. His age was another factor…when Stiles was 18, he would be a man and more capable of choosing what he wanted. Derek just didn't want to blow his chance until he was sure that _Stiles_ was sure. BUt when he heard the boys talking, heard Stiles talking about the Pack to an unknown enemy and putting them all in danger, Derek blew his top. It was just so eerily close to what happened with him and Kate.

Derek had been wrong about Scott and Allison...she had turned out to be staunch ally in the end, and would have been so sooner but for Derek's neverending mistakes. Now it appeared he was wrong about Stiles and Rick too. Kate was the one Derek had chosen to trust, and Kate was the one who fucked his world up beyond all repair. Derek was and always would be the world's worst judge of character.

He'd almost had something with Stiles, but that was over and done with now…there was just no coming back from this.

'_Are you seriously going to try to make anyone believe that you're interested in _Stiles_ because you find him attractive and think he's a great hunter?_'

Why on earth had Derek said that? Stiles was amazingly handsome, and talented. That no one had spotted this was a continual mystery to Derek, even though he was grateful for it. If no one looked closely at him, if no one saw his full potential…maybe he would still be on the market when he became a man and Derek was ready to make his move. Lydia had to be on drugs not to see it; Aiden and Jackson had to be fools not to feel threatened by him.

But this Rick character obviously saw what Stiles was…and wasn't cursed with indecision the way Derek was.

"Rick's a dick," Derek said to himself. But this wasn't Rick's fault, it was Derek's. Derek had hurt Stiles more than any creature they ever fought in this stupid cursed town.

Derek's ears perked up suddenly. There was the sound of an engine in the forest…a very familiar engine.

Stiles was coming to see him.

Derek raced outside. The alcohol had demolished all of his old inhibitions…when he saw Stiles, he was going to throw himself on his knees and beg forgiveness…then give Stiles a kiss that was nearly three years in the waiting.

The Jeep roared over the dirt road with nary a bump despite the many deep holes that peppered its surface. The headlights were twin blood-lamps, brighter than any stop-light Derek had ever seen. The engine was loud, and almost sounded like an enraged beast.

Derek tried hard to see Stiles through the windshield, but the Jeep seemed to be empty. The boy's scent was absent except for old and faint echoes.

The Jeep did not slow down at all. Derek had no time to dive out of the way, even if he'd been able to.

{}{}{}{}

THUNK.

Stiles woke up groggily. He looked around. Rick had gone home for his meeting a while ago.

THUNK.

It seemed to be coming from his window. Stiles got up and padded to the window, throwing it open and trying to rub sleep out of his eyes. A rock hit him in the head, causing him to shriek.

"Stiles!" called Scott's voice.

"Scott, what the hell? Stop throwing rocks, you nitwit!"

"Dude, I can't get up to your window! I can't even come near your house! What the hell did you do?"

Stiles groaned. "I'll be down in a minute!"

He made it halfway down the stairs before realizing he was naked, went up, dressed, and made it halfway down the stairs again before he realized he was bleeding. Stupid rock.

When he finally opened the door and joined Scott outside, his best friend gave him the most terrible news he'd heard all day.

"Derek's in the hospital!"

Stiles snapped to full alertness. "What? Fuck, was it Hunters? The Rourkes?"

"No, they were with the Argents tonight, all of them…even that Rick guy! Deaton ran some tests…there's no wolfsbane in his system, but he still isn't healing! Like what happens when you get attacked by another Alpha…only Derek looks like he got hit by a Mack truck!"

"I'm in no condition to drive Scott…take me there!"

Stiles texted his dad first, then Rick asking him to meet him there.

Rick was closer to the hospital and met him there in the lobby. Scott looked at him suspiciously while Stiles filled him in.

"Rick…Derek was attacked tonight. Do you know anything about it? Anything at all?"

Rick looked offended and gave Scott a sour glance. "Brought your lie detector with you, huh? Even after what I told Derek today?"

"Of course I don't think you did it! You told me that some Hunters in your family are freaky like Kate was! Do you think any of _them_ could have done this?"

"No…we were all there with the Argents tonight. Even the loose cannons. Besides, your witch doctor confirmed he has no bullet wounds and no wolfsbane poisoning. We have no weapon that could suppress the healing factor like that."

Stiles threw up his hands in defeat. The rogue Alpha was dead, and all Hunters exonerated. He sank into a horrible plastic chair and waited for Melissa to come back with any news. Scott left to gather the rest of the Pack, and the Sheriff appeared a short while later with some take out for the boys to eat.

"You gonna stay here all night?" Rick asked.

"Yeah," Stiles said tonelessly. Rick looked at him, eyes filling up as he realized certain facts that Stiles had kept hidden maybe even from himself. Hurt marred his otherwise handsome features, but he took a chair right next to Stiles and held his hand.

"Then I'll stay here with you," Rick said softly.

Rick started humming to himself. It took Stiles a few minutes to realize it was the refrain from Gotye's 'Somebody That I Used To Know.'


	4. Chapter 4

Despite Rick's assurances, Stiles still felt that the Rourke's were the best bet for finding out what happened to Derek. The Alpha was still in the hospital had not regained consciousness. Stiles asked Rick if it would be alright to meet the other Hunters, lying through his teeth that his reason had anything to do with Derek.

"You've been trying to get me over again for days anyway," Stiles cajoled, hating himself for doing this and knowing he had no choice.

"Sure, no problem," Rick said a little coldly.

Rick drove him over and introduced him to the men when they arrived at the training yard, including Wayne who was the one who casually suggested killing Stiles the night the Hunters had found him. Only Rourke himself was absent, though he was due to return at any moment.

"So, this is your 'little friend', Ricky?" Wayne asked with a barely concealed look of disgust on his face.

"Shut it, Wayne. My father already warned you about using the wrong kind of language around me."

"Yeah, always running to Daddy with your troubles…" Wayne muttered, paling a little at the mention of Rourke. While Stiles hated the man within a second of formally meeting him, he couldn't blame the guy for being afraid of Rourke.

They made to walk past him when Wayne deliberately shouldered into Stiles, nearly knocking him off balance.

"Hey! Watch it, you little shit!" Wayne shouted. He shoved Stiles hard, and this time the teen did topple to the floor. A few of the men noticed and laughed.

Stiles ground his teeth. He didn't know what it was about him that made any bully within a mile radius want to come gunning for him, and he didn't particularly care. His rage caused the spark inside him to flare up again, and his hands and arms began to tingle. Ever since he turned the Stilinski home into a werewolf-proof fortress, the spark was closer to the surface than ever and seemed to surge along with his anger.

He badly wanted to teach this asshole a lesson.

Despite Rick's understandable coldness to him when he realized Stiles had feelings for Derek, he was nonetheless furious with the overbearing Hunter for attacking his friend.

"Watch it Wayne, or my dad's not going to be your only problem!" Rick shoved Wayne, barely moving him.

"Your 'dad' isn't going to be around forever, pipsqueak! Just remember that! Day he croaks, you better run off with your hotshot homo-hunter before I find you!" Wayne looked as if he dearly wanted to murder Rick right then and there, but instead he turned around and started to stalk away. Rick was beyond mad; he had a look of sheerest loathing on his face that seemed long-practiced.

Stiles got to his feet. The tingling was stronger now, and made him feel invincible.

"Hey, shithead! Don't _fucking_ turn your back on me!"

Wayne halted and faced them again. He had a huge grin on his face reminiscent of similar ones seen on the faces of Kate and Gerard Argent.

"Boy, your father may be the Sheriff, but trust me when I say that won't protect you _or_ him. Now get on your knees…I bet you're good at that!…and beg me not take you apart piece by piece!" Wayne started walking toward him swiftly.

Rick started to intervene but was pulled back by another hunter. He struggled and cursed to no avail.

Stiles was distracted for a moment by Rick's predicament, and so had no time to react when Wayne's fist smashed into his nose. A blinding flash of light burst through his brain, and his mouth and sinuses immediately filled with blood. It felt like he was drowning. His vision cleared just in time to see the fist closing in for another blow. It seemed to be traveling in slow motion. For a moment, the tingling in his arms intensified until it felt like his whole body had been shocked with electricity.

_"NO!" _Stiles roared.

The fist stopped in the dead air. Wayne looked at it, surprised. Stiles instinctually directed all the power throbbing in his body into his right hand and made a fist before slamming it into Wayne's cheek. There was an audible crunching sound and Wayne flew backward. At the same time, Stiles' nose suddenly restructured itself with a painful crackling.

_(Balance is the soul of magic)_

The thought came and went through his head too fast for him to recognize, but he knew what he had done. He had used magic to transfer his injury from himself to the Hunter…with a punch.

Stiles stood there among the now nervous Hunters, covered in blood and looking all the more threatening for it. A few were looking down at Wayne and _tsking_. Rick's captor let him go and clapped Stiles on the shoulder.

"Good for you, boy. My name's Terrance. I never liked that asshole, Wayne. Rick's been going on and on about you, and frankly none of us believed him. We believe him now!"

Rick approached Stiles, his face white with concern. "Sty, are you alright? Oh god, I'm so sorry…"

"It's alright, it's nothing!" Stiles let Rick examine him, feeling guilty at the raw worry etched into his face.

"I thought he broke your nose! Wayne's _killed people_ with that punch; when he hits you it sends bone fragments into the brain! You're lucky to be alive! Are you sure it's alright?"

Stiles pressed his nose from side to side with no pain, and Rick sighed with unfeigned relief. Stiles felt abysmal for doubting him, and for not telling him he was half in love with Derek. To be fair, Stiles hadn't really known himself…but that didn't make it any better for Rick.

"Um…can I get cleaned up somewhere?" Stiles asked. He must look a wreck.

Rick led him through the yard and into a small gym. From there they made it into the house proper and finally up to Rick's room.

"Just take everything off and get in the shower. I'll get these in the wash and bring up some ice; your nose might still swell.

Rick helped him peel off his bloody clothes. Rick had already seen him naked, but there was nothing erotic about a blood-covered Stiles and Rick just shooed him into the shower without comment.

Stiles looked at himself in the mirror and almost fainted. No wonder Rick had been so worried. If not for the spark's healing, he might be in a bed next to Derek…or in the morgue.

Derek! If Stiles could use it to heal himself…could he use it to help heal the Alpha? But wait…it seemed this particular brand of magic required sacrifice, and Stiles didn't really want to put anyone into a coma, himself included. Maybe Deaton would have an idea.

He climbed in the shower and washed a good portion of his own blood off, watching it swirl down the drain…it made him think of Peter Hale's old spiral; the symbol of the vendetta…and revenge.

Shaking his head clear of such thoughts, he finished showering and dried himself off in time for Rick to return with some ice in a bag. _Now_ Rick was giving him a very familiar once-over before shaking his head and handing him the ice and some clothes from his dresser. Stiles dressed rapidly and pointlessly applied the ice to his nose.

"I should have brought a second bag of ice to dump in my boxers," he said, smiling weakly.

"Rick…" Stiles groaned. They had to talk about this.

"It's ok. I can see what you like about him. He's really strong, and 'hot as hell' is an understatement. If I hadn't met you, I might have asked him out."

A rush of emotions whirled through Stiles, including the strange sensation of feeling a twinge of jealous possessiveness over both Rick _and_ Derek.

"But for the record," Rick continued. "I'd have dumped him for _you_ in a second. I'm guessing you don't feel the same."

"Rick, you don't understand. Derek and I have been dancing around each other for three years. We've saved each other's lives multiple times. There's just…a lot of history there."

"And yet, he was willing to throw you out of his Pack…not to mention use you for a punching bag for years."

Stiles whipped his head around. "What did you say?"

Rick looked at him. "I asked Scott about Derek at the meeting, what he was like. Sorry, I know it was prying but both of them were the first Alpha werewolves I ever met that my family wasn't trying to hunt down. I didn't even know you and Derek had a history, and Scott _still_ doesn't know. He just said that Derek was always threatening people and slamming them into things, while Scott was trying to be more of a protective Alpha. What he said about Derek reminded me of the treatment I get here from the other Hunters. Why the hell would you put up with that?"

Stiles knew the real question Rick was asking: 'Why would you choose him over me?' Stiles didn't have an answer for him. He was also going to kill Scott when he had the chance.

"Derek…is sort of a failboat when it comes to feelings. He's, I don't know…emotionally constipated or something. The Hale fire messed him up, not to mention his crazy uncle killing his sister. Anger is his anchor, and it was the only way he could express any other emotion…worry, protectiveness, regret, appreciation…all coming out the same way. I guess I just learned to read between the lines. The man underneath…that's the guy I care about. God, Rick…why are you making me torture you like this? Lydia Martin used to do this to _me_…rub it in my face that she was seeing someone else."

"Look, even if we don't…date…that doesn't mean I don't want to be friends or that I won't care if someone hurts you." Rick sat on his bed with his knees pulled up. He looked out the window, seeming small and painfully young. The forlorn expression on his face was like a knife twisting in Stiles' gut. "I never had much, Stiles…and never anything like you. Maybe it's a good thing. It was scary having someone I cared about so much…I never felt that way about anyone. At least when you're alone, no one can take anything away from you."

Stiles didn't know what to say. He wanted to run over and grab Rick and hug him, and maybe even do more things with him…but he couldn't. It would do nothing but hurt two people he cared about more than anything.

"You're not alone, Rick. You have your dad and you have me!"

"I have neither one of you," Rick said, and now that cold note was back in his voice. You have someone else, and my father…while he could care less if I were gay or straight, what he wanted more than anything was to raise a son who could be as badass of a Hunter as he is. You saw the way the men treated me…you got more respect from Terrance today than I've ever gotten. The Rourke clan will either be disbanded or taken over by another leader when my father dies. I represent the end of a fucking _dynasty_ to him. That's why he can barely stand to look at me some days."

Rick pointed up at a poster on his wall that Stiles barely noticed. It showed the endless pristine dunes of a great desert, possibly the Sahara. The only thing to destroy the unrelenting sameness was a small black stone sitting at the base of one of the dunes. It was an interesting picture, in its way.

"See that stone? That's me. I'm in the middle of a desert, connected to nothing at all." Bitterness dripped from his voice.

"Rick, did you not see all those people at karaoke cheering you on when you sang that cheesy song? I remember thinking you could have _anyone_ there that you wanted…anyone at all! You already have whatever it is that makes it easy for someone to fall for you!"

"Getting people to like me or even fall for me isn't the problem, Stiles. I've turned down people before you. The problem is that _I've_ never had feelings for _anyone_ before you…and I'm not sure I ever will again. I've had months where I felt nothing at all."

Stiles looked at him, stunned. He opened his mouth, with no idea what was going to come out, when the door to the bedroom opened. Rourke stood there looking back and forth between the two of them.

"Ah, young Mr. Stilinski!" he growled, not even greeting his son. He seemed extremely pleased about something. "Walk with me for a bit? I just wanted to have a little chat, and then I'll drive you to your home."

Stiles followed Rourke out the door, looking back at Rick who had guessed (correctly) that his father did not want him along. Stiles' heart gave a lurch as Rick closed his bedroom door after them, his face an impassive mask.

"Wayne is being treated by my in house physician. I understand you flattened him with a single punch," Rourke drawled in his gargoyle voice.

"Yeah, sorry about that. He hit me first though…"

Rourke laughed long and loudly. "Son," Stiles started at the word coming from the grizzled Hunter. "don't think for a moment that I'm upset with you. Wayne is a talented Hunter and a world class pugilist…and if I had a nickel for every time I've wanted to shoot him point blank in the head, I would be a very rich man. If you had put him in the morgue, dinner would have been on me at the restaurant of your choice!"

Stiles kept quiet. He didn't doubt for a moment that the old man would have celebrated the death of one of his own Hunters at the hands of a stranger simply because he didn't like the man.

"You have intrigued me from the moment I met you! I suspected you were something special, but I must say you have exceeded all my expectations! My son may not be much of a Hunter, but it seems he recognizes talent when he sees it. When he told me that you two had been…seeing each other…I worried about where it might lead. Some of my men are not as open-minded as I am…and I credit my late wife with disabusing me of some old-fashioned notions…and I knew that when he finally settled on someone, it would likely be the last straw for Wayne and his cronies. They will never follow my son as they have followed me. But the Lord works in mysterious ways, son. You beat the strongest of my men and gained their respect…and beyond all hope, I think that with _you_…my son could actually keep the Rourke clan intact. I can already see you would work well together, and no one would cross him if it meant crossing you. You've taken a great burden from me, son. I cannot thank you enough."

"Um, you're welcome, Sir." Stiles said awkwardly.

Apparently, Rourke was a little behind on recent developments…and did Stiles want to tell him that his dream was already smashed to powder? Did he want Rourke to know that the sole obstacle to his happiness was right now lying unconscious in Beacon Hills General? Stiles shuddered to think what would happen the moment Rourke became aware of either of these things. And how long would it be before Rick decided to tell him?

They left the house and got into Rourke's SUV. Rourke was lost in his own thoughts and did not comment on Stiles' reticence to talk. Before long, they pulled up at the Stilinski home, and Rourke drove away with a wave.

Stiles' leaned on his Jeep and pulled out his phone. There was already a text from Rick.

_I guess I'll bring you your clothes tomorrow. Hope my dad was okay with you._

Stiles called the number, but it went to Rick's voicemail. He hung up and sent a text instead.

_Rick, call me ASAP. This is a 911 emergency!_

The phone rang a moment later. "Yeah?" came Rick's weary voice.

"Hey! Sorry…I'm probably the last person you want to talk to right now…Rick, your dad has this idea of us married and taking over the clan in his head! He thinks that together we could do it since I clobbered Wayne in that fight and…"

The Jeep's headlights came on. Stiles reached in the window and shut them off, not thinking anything of it. He didn't even notice that they were red.

"…since the men respect you. Yeah, I saw that one coming. Guess he's going to be disappointed. Again. I wonder who he'll blame it on." Rick sounded exhausted.

Feeling like the worst slime in the world, Stiles closed his eyes and continued. "Uh…maybe it would be a good idea if we didn't disappoint him…"

"You mean…you still want to…?" Rick's voice suddenly sounded awake and hopeful.

"Oh god…no I mean, just…maybe can we not tell him…at least until Derek is out of the hospital and safe?" Stiles was sure that somewhere in Hell his special room was being prepared.

There was silence on the phone for maybe 30 seconds. Then:

"Okay."

Stiles breathed a sigh of relief. "Rick, thank you so much, you don't know what this means…"

A beep told him that the phone call had been disconnected.

{}{}{}{}

Stiles drove the Jeep over to Deaton's to see if the vet had any ideas about how to heal Derek without having to hurt anything.

He was shocked, and then ecstatic to discover that Derek was already there…and awake.

"Derek! Oh my god, are you alright? When did you wake up?" Stiles wanted to go over and embrace Derek, but the Alpha looked like he was still in incredible pain. He seemed surprised to see Stiles there. Deaton was looking at what appeared to be a sample of Derek's blood under a microscope, but got up and left the room to give them some privacy.

"I woke up earlier today…I checked myself out and came over with Dr. Deaton. He's trying to find out why I couldn't heal. I'm still not up to full speed. Why do you care anyway?"

Stiles froze at Derek's tone. "Why do I care? Are you stupid? Look, if I wait for you to say it first, I'll be an old man by the time you grow a pair and admit it."

Stiles walked to the bedside and took Derek's hand in his own. The Alpha watched him with wide eyes. "I care about you...I have for a long time. And I was worried _sick_ about you, you bastard."

"Stiles…what you did with that Mountain Ash…I thought you _hated _me…"

Stiles rolled his eyes. "I was angry with you…for exiling me from the Pack. I know you think I fucked up by sharing secrets with him, but you really have Rick all wrong. He's a really great guy, and even his old man isn't so bad once you get to know him!"

Stiles filled Derek in on recent events, leaving out only the discovery of his spark. He wanted to share that with Derek, but knew the Alpha would probably get side-tracked away from what Stiles considered to be the main problem.

Derek took it in, looking furious when he heard about the fight with Wayne, only to be impressed when Stiles described how he had beaten the older man.

"Anyway…Rourke would love it if Rick and I hit it off…but we already talked about it and I told him how I feel about you. Now I need to know…how do you feel about me?"

Derek was quiet for a few minutes, and Stiles felt an icy stab in his heart. What if he read Derek all wrong? What if the Alpha didn't care for him in that way?

"You terrify me," Derek admitted. Stiles' heart sank.

"I terrify you? Okay, I wasn't expecting to hear that…"Stiles started to pull away, but Derek grabbed him.

"Let me finish. You scare me because I care about you…you're the first person I had any feelings for since Kate."

"What about…?"

"Don't say her name, please. Part of the reason for Jennifer was to help bury the feelings I had for you. After what Gerard did to you, I'd decided I needed to stay away. All I ever do is cause you to get hurt, Stiles. And not one head slam or threat seemed to keep you away. I wanted someone, anyone, to get my mind off you, and hopefully get your mind off me. If something happened to you because of me, I'd go insane. I can't cause the death of one more person that I love Stiles. It would be too much for me. But it turned out to be a double edged sword…you don't need _me_ around to get into trouble…you do just fine on your own. I know I'd wind up blaming myself for not being there if something happened…and that's when I realized I was stuck. Damned if I do, damned if I don't. That's why you scare me…I feel like something terrible is going to happen no matter what I do. I love you…and the gods seem to like destroying whatever I care about. That's why I exiled you from the Pack…people were noticing you, and noticing what you really are: a force to be reckoned with. I guess I was trying to delay the inevitable and at the same time hope no one tried to steal you away from me. Rick came closer to doing that than anyone."

"Rick was never the problem, you stupid Sourwolf."

Stiles leaned over and kissed Derek Hale for the first time. Derek resisted at first, then gripped Stiles' neck and gave him the hottest, dirtiest wettest and filthiest kiss Stiles' could ever have imagined in his most deranged fantasies. Teenage hormones surged in him, and he seriously considered pulling the Alpha off the narrow bed and onto the floor for some serious exploration of his body when he felt the spark awaken in him again. It welled up within Stiles and seemed to travel from his body to Derek's. The energy rapidly repaired the Alpha's damaged healing factor and Derek felt the changes begin to take place within him. He groaned in pleasure as pain from a double dozen injuries slowly faded away.

Stiles fell to the floor, exhausted just as Deaton came back in the room. Derek was out of bed in a flash, no sign of his weakened condition remained. They maneuvered Stiles onto the bed and Deaton checked him over.

"Incredible…Stiles managed to heal you with his spark!"

Derek was not surprised. Stiles had demonstrated his power once already. "Will he be okay?"

"I think so. If you were human, the effort might have killed him…but he only jumpstarted you, helping your body to use its own power to heal itself. Still, that's very serious magic and it should be beyond him. I've never seen a spark that strong."

Derek told Deaton about the Mountain Ash spell Stiles had put on his own house. Deaton whistled softly.

"He needs rest, but I think he'll be fine. I'm going to have to train him at some point…hopefully when the Rourkes leave town. Take the chair if you want to stay here with him; I'll call his father and let the Sheriff know Stiles is alright."

Derek nodded and settled down in the chair next to the bed, relaxing and closing his eyes with one of Stiles' hands clutched in his own.

{}{}{}{}

Wayne walked through the empty training yard with his face swathed in bandages. His nose was demolished and would require surgery beyond the capabilities of their physician. He cursed thinking about it. Rourke had already told him the price would come out of his own pay. Then he'd gotten a dressing down from the clan leader that made him quake in his boots. It was easy to forget how scary the old fucker could get sometimes. The orders to leave Stiles alone rankled particularly painfully; Wayne wanted to bury the brat six feet under…after smashing his face in good and hard with a shovel first. The thought lightened his step, and he left the yard and walked for a bit down the road, looking up at the moon that was just beginning to dominate the darkening sky.

A Jeep sat across the street, and it was a mighty fine specimen of the breed. Curious, Wayne walked over to it. It looked like Stilinski's Jeep, but seemed to be of far greater quality. Just the thought of Stilinski made Wayne ball his hand into a fist and smash it down on the hood. He searched his pocket for some keys that he could use to scratch the paint to hell. Maybe he could flatten the tires, pour sugar in the gas tank…give the car the working over he was forbidden to give Stilinski.

A noise from under the hood caught his attention.

Wayne popped the hood and looked in. The battery seemed to be vibrating in place. The Hunter peeked in closer only for the battery to explode outward in a spray of acid that promptly began eating into his surprised and terrified face.

"My eyes! My eyes!" he screamed. Only one light in the house clicked on, a smallish form peeking out the window into the night.

Wayne blindly reached out for anything to steady himself, and laid his hand on the exposed engine. The hood slammed down with guillotine force. Half of his hand was gone in a flash…the hand he'd used to flatten Stiles earlier that day. Wayne screamed anew as he held up his fingerless spurting appendage...which he could no longer see. There was the sound of tearing metal, and perhaps it was a blessing for Wayne that he was blind. He would have been terrified to see the Jeep's grille tear itself apart, the torn metal giving it the appearance of a fanged set of jaws. Blood-red crimson headlamps came on, and the grille-mouth opened wide. The Jeep pushed forward, and Wayne was caught in those jaws and devoured unseeing by a monster he wouldn't have believed existed despite over twenty years as a Hunter.

The figure at the window watched silently, and when the screams stopped and the headlights flicked off, He watched the Jeep repair itself, the grille reassembling like magic. When the Jeep was once more in pristine condition, it drove slowly away and into the night, leaving behind only four fingers attached to half a hand to twitch and curl grotesquely as the severed nerve endings began the hours-long process of dying. The bedroom light switched off then, and the figure retired to bed to ponder what these events could possibly mean.


End file.
